


And I'll turn right back around

by pinkpurpleblue



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Delirium, High School Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Sickfic, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 08:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20888864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpurpleblue/pseuds/pinkpurpleblue
Summary: "Can't walk." She slurs, trying to stand and fumbling miserably. Jim suddenly understands and rushes over; hooking his arms underneath her armpits and dragging her in front of the toilet before she can puke on the carpet.





	And I'll turn right back around

Jim hated Mondays with the same disdain that office workers coming off of a weekend bender had. Mondays were slow, stupid, and boring. If he had to watch Mr. Franklin fail at hiding the fact his coffee was spiked every Monday morning than Jim was gonna break that damn ruler he always carried around. If there was one thing that could make the Monday worse, however, it would be the fact that his chemistry book is _not_ in his bag. The chemistry books he needed for last period because the test was worth 30% of his grade. And he can distinctly remember that Joyce had bribed him with the answers to the English homework for his chem book because she had forgotten hers, and then she never brought it back.  
And to add onto it, Joyce had ditched, he knows because she always stuck her cigarette buttes from the morning into his locker.  
At least that gives him a reason to skip.

He pulls up to what he hopes is her house, only having been there once before; when he and Joyce were partnered for a school project. He parks on the street and walks up the driveway, noticing Joyce's car still sitting. He pounds on the door and wonders briefly if Joyce also has his lighter and his hoodie that went missing.

"Joyce!" He calls through the door. "I'm gonna fail chemistry because of you!"

He waits for _you'd fail chemistry anyway_. But there's just silence, which concerns him. It's not like Joyce never skips, it's just that she never skips and stays home, that he knows of. He should just leave. It's none of his business, it's not like they're friends.  
  
Which he keeps telling himself as he's walking around the side of her house and climbing up to her window. He's probably gonna fall on his ass and break his leg but he climbs anyway. Somehow he manages to make it to a ledge by her window, and he knocks on it.

"Joyce?" He tries, shifting his grip on the pane so he doesn't go tumbling off the narrow ledge. He almost expects no response, like at the door; but instead, he hears a faint groan and a thump. Like someone falling on the floor.

He sighs, trying not to think of the fact he's breaking and entering into Joyce's house. He pushes up the window and clumsily climbs over the windowpane, landing roughly on the floor. He spots Joyce a few feet away from him, in a similar state, lying face down on the floor. He pushes himself up.

"Joyce?" He says, getting only a groan from the floor in response. "Are you hungover?" He continues, his voice tilting with amusement.

"‘m sick." The floor says, groaning.

"Okay, yeah, let's maybe get you off the floor." He says, going over to her and helping her sit up against the wall.

Now that he can see her face, Joyce looks like shit; to put it lightly. She's ten shades paler than usual, her nose is steadily turning red, and her eyes are glassy and unfocused. All in all, she looks like she's gonna fall over any minute, which she apparently already did.

"I have to puke." She says after a moment.

"Okay?" Jim responds, wondering why she's telling _him_.

"Can't walk." She slurs, trying to stand and fumbling miserably. Jim suddenly understands and rushes over; hooking his arms underneath her armpits and dragging her in front of the toilet before she can puke on the carpet.

"Jesus, Joyce." He starts, "You seen a doctor yet?"

He gets a groan in response. He notices that she keeps switching from holding her hair away from her face and gripping the toilet seat, so he swats her hand away and awkwardly positions himself behind her, gathering up all her hair in a loose fist, careful not to tug at it.

They stand like that for a while, and eventually, Joyce stops gagging and shifts away back from the toilet bowl and leans against his legs. Her eyes flutter closed, and he lets go of her hair.

"Okay, I think you need to sleep in your _bed_." He says, grunting as he picks her up to carry her. She starts muttering random sentences, and he notices that she feels very warm.  
He puts her to bed, feeling like a dumbass as he thinks of actually tucking her in, but he does it anyway. He suddenly feels colder, and that makes him realize how warm she really was. If he didn't think she had a fever before…  
He grabs another blanket from her closet and lays it across her. He thinks he heard somewhere that you're supposed to sweat out fevers instead of trying to cool yourself off, and he really hopes that it's right.

He grabs his chemistry book off of her desk and braces himself to head through the window again, not knowing how to lock the front door if he leaves that way. He's going to step out onto the outside ledge when he hears Joyce mumbling, getting louder and louder.

Jim steps back inside and sees that she's rolling and twisting around in her bed, and she looks like she's in pain, so he goes and kneels next to her bed, and he puts a hand on her arm, trying to get her to stop flailing.

"Joyce, hey, Joyce?" He says softly, wondering what the hell he's gotten himself into, and wondering how sick someone needs to get before they really need a doctor. He starts racking his brain for every scrap of medical knowledge he has.

"Dad?" Joyce says, startling Jim out of his thoughts, it's the clearest thing she's said for the past few minutes, and she's turned toward Jim, and her eyes are on him, but it's also like she's focused on something else entirely.

Joyce's dad was a sore subject for her. Jim only knew about him because she had cried next to him one night when they were both drunk, sitting in the back of Jim's uncle's truck that was parked in some field somewhere; they were drinking and hanging out mostly because Dana Harvey had broken up with him, Joyce had failed her History test and they decided to sulk together. Joyce had downed three and a half of the beers they brought out and sobbed into his shoulder for an hour about how much she missed her dad, who had apparently been hit by semi off the interstate about two years ago.

Joyce just stares at him, and she reaches for him with such desperation, and he remembers how hard she cried in the back of that truck, and how her hand had fisted into his jacket; really what is he supposed to do?

He settles himself next to her and hugs her. She curls into him and her head is glued to his chest, her breathing steadily gets slower, and she falls asleep basically tangled in him. He sighs carefully, trying not to jostle her. He's used to smoking cigarettes in the stairwell with Joyce, not literally holding her as she sleeps.


End file.
